Born Into Grey
by NHPW
Summary: The PsiCorps senses an opportunity to get even with John Sheridan for their loss of influence in Earthgov - a vulnerability in the form of his newborn son. Story complete 5/18/10.
1. The Vision

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never will. If I did, I would've gotten to meet Bruce Boxleitner, and that would have been way cool.

Author's note: Art is never finished, only abandoned. Such is the case with this story. It has been a massive undertaking for me, and I am very, very proud of it – but I will always, no matter how many times I read and re-read it, change something every time. Finally I decided – it's time to let it go, and let my readers be the judge. Thanks for all the feedback as I've posted the chapters - the complete story is here as of 5/18/10, but I will (once I've had a chance to decompress my brain with something else) try to tinker with the beast and make some revisions based on reader suggestions and reviews.

A few specific things to note:

1) I always try, no matter the length of the story, to keep it as cannon as possible. That being said – I made Garibaldi David's godfather because it worked for the plot I had in mind. I was about ¾ of the way finished when I learned that it is established in the _Legions of Fire_ novel trilogy by Peter David (which I have not read) that, in fact, Garibaldi really _was_ given that position. My reaction was a slack-jawed, "Holy crap, I'm psychic." I tweaked tiny bits of the story after that, but it boosted my confidence about 110 percent.

2) I tried to do a little Bible-centric symbolism. It's a new thing for me; I think even if you don't get that, the story still works. Still, I'd be interested to know if that comes through.

3) JMS has said that he writes his best when he just lets the characters talk to him and then writes down what they say. I tried that. I think it makes me a little bit insane, but seriously, that's how most of this was written. I didn't write it. They did. Thanks, y'all.

_You are the beginning of the story… and the middle of the story… and the end of the story, that begins the next great story." – Zathras, _War Without End Part 2_._

**Born into Grey**

Chapter 1 – The Vision

It was the only name they could have given him. At birth, his destiny was written in the stars, long before it was written in history. "David" for his human grandfather. David, meaning "beloved" in the language of his father – and he was certainly that. Da'vid, meaning "the beginning" in the language of his mother – and he was certainly that, as well.

Long after his father set history in motion by leaping into the abyss on Z'ha'dum; long after the Grey Council was broken and rebuilt by his mother's will; history would begin again, and he would venture his own descent and victory over darkness. Long after his parents fought to bring together a galaxy, he would fight to bring together two halves of the same whole – his people. He was the beginning of the next great story.

But that was later. Today, in Tuzanor, on Minbar, he was barely a day old.

In the tradition of his mother's caste, despite a difficult entry into the world that threatened the life of both mother and child, he had been born in the temple and sheltered there in his first hours. Now it was time to leave that shelter.

"He is The One made whole. He is your strength and your ambition. He will walk through dark places, but he will be drawn to the light – forever Grey, he will unite his people. He is a child of Valen. How could he not do marvelous things?"

John Sheridan was spellbound by the Minbari seer's revelation. He was equally captivated and confused. One look at Delenn and he knew she shared his opinion.

The seer kissed the brow of newborn David Sheridan, who was wide awake and nestled in his arms. He recited a Minbari prayer, and the child met his gaze with curiosity – but not fear. The words captivated David and his father equally, for they had in common that neither understood them, and were drawn instead by their flowing melody. "We have waited for you for a long time, little one," the seer told David. The child remained still and silent. "I see it now… you are a very old soul." As if in response, David emitted a sound of joy. "Yes, I see you know it already. A _very_ old soul." He shook his head in wonder and then, as was tradition, he handed the baby to his father – the same-gender parent.

"He will walk above the castes long after you have gone to walk among the stars." John's demeanor was serious now at the reminder that he would likely not live to see his son reach this destiny. "He will be a bridge. He is the beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

And that word again, the first Minbari word John had ever spoken, the one that had saved his life so many years before. "Isil'zha." _The future_.

"Da'vid," Delenn breathed, and John looked down at his wife with a furrowed brow. There was clearly a different pronunciation in the name they'd agreed to months ago. "It means 'the beginning' in the dialect of the religious caste. It means…"

"It means this name will serve him well," the seer finished. "That is all I see for now. But I must admit that in all my years, I've not had a vision as clear and powerful as this one. Fear not. You both will give him the foundation he will need. Instill in him all of your values and beliefs from both your worlds. He will need them if he is to fully reach his destiny." He bowed to the family, and then the lights in the temple dimmed as the seer departed and the doors opened, leaving John and Delenn to carry their newborn child out into the Crystal City for the first time.

* * *

"How was Minbar?"

"The same."

"And the child?"

"Born."

"He lives, then?"

"Sheridan is not unbreakable. The child makes him vulnerable."

"Indeed it does, Mr. Bester. Indeed it does."


	2. The Meeting

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes._  
_

Chapter 2 – The Meeting

"Mr. President."

John lifted his eyes away from his careful study of his son's face to take in the Minbari aide who had addressed him. He did not immediately respond, and when he did, his gruff voice bore all of the exhausted happiness one would expect of a new human father. It also bore a calmness that, until recently, would not have been a staple of his demeanor. "Yes, Nalenn. What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. The visitor you have been waiting for has arrived."

"Good." He nodded and stood, careful not to disturb the slumbering infant he cradled. Nalenn remained rooted where he stood, watching. "Something else?"

The aide continued to study them curiously for a moment. "He is… a marvelous mystery," he said at last.

Sheridan nodded in agreement. "All children are, Nalenn. His heritage makes him no more or less so." The president ran a gentle thumb along his son's cheek and gazed again at his face for a moment. When he spoke again to the Minbari aide, the usual authority had returned to his tone. "Tell Mr. Garibaldi I'll meet him in my office in 10 minutes."

Nalenn bowed and departed, and John looked down at David. "He's a little uptight," he explained, transferring the child to his other arm in a clumsy motion he was still practicing. "Don't hold it against him." He laughed quietly. "Well! Your mother should be just about done with her nap, and Daddy has to go see an old friend. You'll meet him later." He was navigating the halls of Interstellar Alliance Headquarters without looking up, and occasionally a staff member, Ranger or aide would move aside to give father and son a wide berth. John didn't even notice. He reached his family's quarters and let himself inside.

She was a vision, just rousing from her slumber, still stretched across their bed, loosely reaching for him as though she would find him there. He wondered if she did that every time she awoke to find his place in bed empty. A sad smile crossed his face at the thought.

John cleared his throat by way of breaking any peaceful reverie she might have been lost in, and she looked up, a tired smile lighting her face as she took in her husband and son.

"You got him to sleep."

"The sounds of politicking are droning and dull. A nice, peaceful hum that sometimes puts me to sleep… I figured a walk through the halls of this place would do the same for him." He handed the tiny bundle off to his wife. "Michael's here. I have about five minutes." His voice was quiet again, content.

"You'll bring him here tonight, of course." Not a question. A request.

"Of course." John stood behind her, hands resting on her shoulders in a tender, familiar gesture. Delenn turned her head away from their child's sleeping face to gaze up at him, and he answered with a kiss. "See you soon."

* * *

"John!"

"Michael!" Michael Garibaldi stood as Sheridan entered the office. He extended his hand, and John grasped it and shook it before using it as leverage to pull his old friend into a back-slapping hug. When they parted, he motioned to a chair. "Well. Sit! Sit. How is Mars?"

"I imagine not quite as good as fatherhood." Garibaldi chuckled. "Thanks for the invitation, by the way. I needed to get away. Lise is swept whole-hog into this wedding planning thing. You know, for me, the civil ceremony on B5 was enough, but no – Lise wanted the whole ball of wax. And since I love her, and since we have more money than God, well… who was I to argue?" He shrugged, then threw his hands up in the air. "I called to tell her I'd made it here and she wasn't home. The maid said she was shoe shopping. For the third day in a row. I swear I have no idea what women feel is so important about shoes."

"You're asking the wrong man."

"Indeed."

"You'll stay tonight, of course. Delenn insists."

"And you?"

"Well, I called you here, didn't I? It would be rude of me to send you on the first transport out. You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. Of course… after a few days, you'll get wrangled into diaper duty, and then I expect you'll be anxious to leave." John crossed the room to sit behind his desk. A moment of silence fell between them, and then John cleared his throat. "Which… brings me to the reason I asked you to come here. I suppose I could've done it over a distance, but. This seemed more appropriate. I… I need your help, Michael."

"With all due respect Mr. President, the last time you asked for my help, it ended with you hijacking two thermonuclear bombs and using them to blow up a planet while you were still on it." He raised a pointed eyebrow at the other man.

"I trusted you then, Michael. And I trust you now, with this." Another beat of silence. "Delenn and I agreed that in raising David, we would do our best to integrate our cultures; we'd raise him to be equally human and Minbari, and not sway him one way or the other. Well, the Minbari have a tradition that when a child is born, he is visited by a seer – like a telepath, but… different. They're able to peek into the future, get a sense of who the child could be, what he could do. We did that before we left the temple. And it was… amazing." John shook his head in wonder at the memory. "But… humans also have a tradition with regard to their newborn children." He looked down at his hands. This decision had borne heavily on the new father for months before his child was born. It carried quite a different weight knowing that the responsibilities associated with the symbolic role would almost certainly be called upon. "Michael I… I'd like to ask you… to be David's godfather."

"I'd be honored." Michael nodded somberly.

"He won't be baptized; it doesn't mean anything to Delenn, and I'm not religious and I know you're not either, but… you and I both know that before he comes of age, David will need someone to look to in how to be a man. I can't think of anyone else I'd like him to model himself after."

"Yeah." Garibaldi flexed his hands between his knees and looked away. The subject of Sheridan's much-abridged lifespan brought back memories of a time in his life he'd just as soon forget. "It means more than you know that you asked me."

"Oh… I think I've got a good idea." Sheridan's smile was soft and sad, but he met his friend's eyes. "Thank you. I know that you… you will be there for him in the ways that I can't."

Another nod from the bald man. "Well then. I guess this means I ought to meet the little bugger."

"Go on ahead. Delenn is at home. I have a meeting, but I'll be there before dinner."

"It's good to see you so happy, John."

"And you, Michael." They both stood, and Sheridan held the door open for his departing friend. When Garibaldi was gone, he closed the door again and settled behind his desk. "Computer, contact Tessa Halloran on Babylon 5."


	3. The Plot

_See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes  
_

Chapter 3 – The Plot

"I expect you have a plan?"

"I thought you'd trust me more. Yes, I have a plan. Sheridan called Mr. Garibaldi to Minbar four days ago; he should be there by now. And the birth was a difficult one; Delenn will be out of commission for a while yet. So I'll go alone, and take the child, and we'll ransom little David for his dear daddy's… cooperation… in putting telepaths in key power positions in his Alliance."

"Mr. Garibaldi has a vendetta against you as big as Mars. Two against one, Al – even you should know those aren't great odds."

"You're forgetting something." Bester's eyes sparked with his sinister smile in the darkness. "Mr. Garibaldi… can't hurt me."

* * *

"He is something, huh?"

It was later that evening, after dinner, and David was sleeping off his meal nestled against his father's chest. John lazily stroked the newborn's bald head, fingers tracing the two small nubs that would eventually grow into a bone crest – the only physical evidence, really, of his Minbari heritage. Michael had spoken in a hushed tone to avoid waking either the baby or his mother, who had fallen asleep in the chair next to John's.

"I've done and seen a lot of things in my life, but I tell you – _this_ is what it's all about. This is what it's all for, right here," John replied. "I just hope you get the chance to experience it for yourself someday."

"I don't know. I think I'd be really good at it if… if I could just get a few other things in my life straightened out first." Garibaldi sighed and leaned back, hands clasped behind his head.

There was a long pause before Sheridan spoke again. "I talked to Tessa today." The shift in the mood of the conversation didn't escape Garibaldi, and he straightened his posture from casual to business-like. "She tells me there is reason to believe the PsiCorps may be plotting against the Alliance, possibly against me personally. She intercepted one registered telepath coming through Babylon 5 about a week ago, bound for Minbar. Another two days ago, returning to Mars from here."

"Ah hell." Garibaldi exhaled slowly.

"Now if it were just me, hell, I'd say, let 'em try. But it's not just me anymore, Michael. It's Delenn. And… David." His hand rested naturally on the child's back and he felt David's tiny body rise and fall with each breath. "I swear I… when I first held him, when I saw him for the first time, it changed me in a way I never thought possible. I've accepted that I'll only get to spend about the first 18 years of his life with him, but I want _all_ of that time." The president clenched his jaw. "God dammit, Michael," he hissed. "I do _not like_ feeling so vulnerable. They've been here twice in the last week and I didn't even know it. Who knows how close they've been to IA Headquarters, to my home, to my—my family." Anger rose in him just at the thought.

"Maybe you should get out of here for awhile. Take Delenn and David on a vacation, maybe visit your folks…"

"I can't do that, not right now. Delenn's not fit for travel." John threw a worried glance at his wife. "Besides, it won't work, Michael, you know that. The PsiCorps has had it in for me ever since we took down Clark's regime and removed their influence from Earthdome. No… if we go into hiding, we'll never be able to come back out. Better just to make a stand now, here, on our turf."

Garibaldi wasn't convinced, but he knew that look in Sheridan's eyes – the look that said the decision had been made and there was no changing his mind. "Well then I guess it's good I'm here. I'll send word to my people on Mars to notify me of any PsiCorps transports leaving Syria Planum, bound for Minbar or B5, and I'll put an ear to the ground in the rogue pipeline, but you gotta know… Telepaths don't always leave a paper trail."

"That's the part that worries me. It's times like this I really miss Lyta." He stifled a yawn, and the abnormal rise and fall of his chest was enough to rouse David, who began to fuss.

"John?" Delenn's voice was tired and lacked the confidence Garibaldi was accustomed to.

"He's fine, Delenn. Just a little over-tired, that's all. Here." He passed the baby to his wife. "Why don't you get him settled and head to bed. I'll join you in a little while."

She complied without argument, bowing her respects to the two men as she departed.

"She's changed," Garibaldi observed.

Sheridan nodded. "Part of her will come back eventually. It was a difficult birth… she's still recovering." The memories of that night flooded back and brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back. "I… I thought I was going to lose them both," he admitted, before taking a moment to compose his thoughts. "Motherhood has not come as easily to her as running a council meeting or commanding a White Star. She's still trying to accept that at least for now, we're not in charge. He is." He smiled. "But she's learning. Last night I heard her singing him a Minbari lullaby. At least that's what I assume it was – I couldn't understand a word of it. But it was beautiful."

"You know, if you really are putting down roots here, you might want to think about picking up the language."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I've always known—"

John's thought was cut short by the sound of glass breaking down the hall. The two men looked at each other before they bolted from their chairs and toward the sound. Delenn met them in the hall at the source – the nursery.

"Aw hell," Garibaldi breathed. He pushed past the shocked parents and into the room. "Lights!" he barked, and a warm glow lit the room.

Sheridan got his wits about him and followed Garibaldi inside. Shattered glass littered the floor and the cool breeze of a Minbari autumn night blew in from the broken window opposite an eerily empty crib.

"Delenn. Delenn, tell me you hadn't put him to bed yet," Sheridan pleaded. His heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest.

"I thought, perhaps, I'd try the rocking chair your father sent. He is—"

A beautiful cry came from the master suite and all three adults strode out of the nursery and toward John and Delenn's bedroom.

"I heard the glass shatter and in the confusion I—thought he'd be safer in here," Delenn volunteered as she lifted the baby, unharmed, from his bassinet.


	4. The Problem

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

Chapter 4 – The Problem

"Mission aborted. I repeat, mission aborted."

"You better have a good explanation for this, Al."

"Forget Sheridan. Forget the Alliance. The baby is the problem. I don't understand it."

"And I don't understand _you_."

"There's something unique about David Sheridan, something that goes far beyond his heritage. The baby… was in my head." The vision had come in a flash – David Sheridan, grown, or well on his way; dressed in the robes of Minbari religious leaders; standing at a podium in Earthdome. To his right, a trio of Minbari; to his left, a trio of mundane humans; below him, thousands from both races, cheering his words, joining in celebration. It was so strong, he could feel their jubilation. And then a force beyond anything he'd ever felt stopped him dead in his tracks and forced him back out the window he'd meticulously cracked for entry. In his hurry to leave, he'd been much less careful, and the window had shattered. "I believe… somehow… the son of Interstellar Alliance President John Sheridan… is a telepath."

* * *

"…And that's all I know. If Bester has been through B5 recently, he's kept a low enough profile to slip by me _and_ station security." Tessa Halloran shrugged on the screen. Behind her, Captain Lochley tapped nervous fingers on the desk she was seated behind.

In turn, Michael shook his head. "That's not his style." He was settled in a semi-uncomfortable chair in the Intelligence Office at Alliance Headquarters, his feet kicked up on a low table in front of him and crossed at the ankle. His right hand was folded behind his head and his left hand held a pen which he was using alternately to chew on and gesture with. "At this point, I think we have to assume he's not involved."

It was the next day, after a very long, sleepless night in the Sheridan household. Delenn had taken David to the temple, under the guard of her very angry husband, and Garibaldi, and three armed Rangers, and would remain there until the damage to their living quarters was repaired and arrangements were made for armed security on all entrances. Once the safety of his family was assured, Sheridan had taken Garibaldi back to IA Headquarters for a briefing with Halloran on his conversation with her yesterday, and the events that had transpired since they'd spoken. While Michael had taken a chair, John paced the floor of the office, clenching and unclenching his jaw through the conversation.

Now Garibaldi let out a long exhale and began to twirl the pen in slow circles, knitting it around his fingers. "All right, look. I'm going to be staying with the first family until this is resolved, so if you see anything else that doesn't feel right, you call me. And if you even _smell_ Alfred Bester, you tell Zack to shoot on sight." He made eye contact with both women, daring one or both to disagree. Neither did.

"Meanwhile, I want security patrols doubled at all docking bays starting five minutes ago," Sheridan added. In spite of their long-defunct personal relationship, Lochley's heart went out to him. He looked exhausted, and more than that, she saw in his face something she'd never seen. It had taken her all of the 10-minute call to recognize it, finally, as fear. "I'll be damned if after all we went through, the PsiCorps is going to use Babylon 5 as a base of operations to kidnap my son."

"Understood." Lochley nodded. "Don't worry, John. We'll take care of things here. You take care of your family."

"I'm trying," Sheridan mumbled.

Halloran shook her head; she hadn't quite heard him. "Sir?"

"Nothing, nothing." He shook his head to clear it. "Contact me the second you have anything. And lean on those informants in Downbelow. They know more than they'll let on to anybody unless you ask. Sheridan out."

The screen blinked and went black. Garibaldi put down his pen and stood. Sheridan continued to pace a hole in the floor near the window until his friend positioned himself strategically in front of the president and put a firm hand on each shoulder.

"We're going to fix this for you, John. Nobody's going to hurt you, and nobody's going to hurt David. Now look. Every Ranger between here and the rim is on alert; they won't try something as stupid as last night again."

"You got those guards for our quarters?"

"Already done."

"I want a homing beacon placed on David. If he's not in my direct line of sight, I want to be able to know where he is at a moment's notice."

"We'll get it taken care of before you go home."

"Did you call Lise?"

"I'm sleeping on the couch for a month, but yes. And don't you –"

"I'm sorry."

"—Apologize or feel guilty—"

"This isn't your job any more, Michael. It's not your life anymore –"

"—About me and Lise. Stop it, John. Now look. You asked me to be there for your son." A pointed look, and Sheridan was quiet. "Let me do that, huh?"

There was a long silence, and Garibaldi watched Sheridan's face contort, watched the mental struggle. Finally, "Thank you."


	5. The Revelation

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's notes.

Chapter 5 – The Revelation

It was cold in the temple, but it was as beautiful as John remembered it from the Seer Ceremony five days prior -- a safe haven then… and a safe haven now. He and Garibaldi arrived after their conference and were led by an acolyte to a small, sequestered room in the back. It had no windows, and nothing about it was at all remarkable.

It was the same room in which David had been born.

Now here was Delenn, again, curled up on the bed. Here was Delenn, who had always been so strong, looking so small and helpless. The difference now was that her pain was mental as opposed to physical; and the difference now was that David lie sleeping in a crib nearby rather than fighting his way out of the womb.

"She lost a lot of blood," John said quietly as the two men stood at the threshold of the room. "And he… when they finally pulled him out… he didn't breathe right away… For awhile, no one was sure if either of them would survive. We won't be able to have more." John didn't elaborate, and Michael didn't ask.

"Mr. President."

John turned toward the hall to see Depier, whom he knew to be a Minbari member of the Anla'shok, standing in the hall. On this knowledge Sheridan bowed respects.

The bow was returned in kind. "I'm very sorry about what happened. But I think… there is something you should know. I think I know who it was, and I think I know why. And… I think… your son is in great danger."

Depier had not been assigned to guard the first family of the Alliance. He had come to the temple to seek them out. His position in this crisis had been fact-finding, and while he hadn't found any concrete facts, his suppositions were enough to have him back on Minbar from Mars orbit as fast as his White Star could carry him. When he'd arrived and at Valen's Temple, the other pieces had fallen into place as the child touched his mind.

Now he sat opposite President Sheridan and Michael Garibaldi in a room equally unremarkable to the guarded room in which Delenn and the child lay sleeping. He'd always respected Delenn, and while he, like many Minbari, had reservations about her union with a human – and this human, in particular – he was awestruck by David, who seemed to prove, just by his existence, the truth about humans and Minbari being two sides of the same coin. He wished the Sheridan family no ill will and had promised himself all the way back to Minbari space that if he survived to deliver his message, he would do years of penance for any doubts he'd had about this union or this child.

"I believe your intelligence officer on Babylon 5 is correct. The PsiCorps plotted the kidnapping of your son. There are two possibilities as to why." He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. "As you already know, at the end of the Earth civil war, the PsiCorps were not pleased about their loss of influence in your government. Evidence suggests they have been lying in wait for an opportunity to position themselves within the Interstellar Alliance. I suspect they saw one here."

"Like hell," Sheridan grunted. He was seated, hands balanced on his knees, clenching and unclenching the joints in an attempt to control his emotions.

"But while that explains the reason for the kidnapping attempt, and is certainly cause for concern, it does not explain why they left empty-handed, without any resistance." Again Depier paused. "I worried on this cause all the way back from Mars orbit." He handed over a data crystal, and Sheridan clenched it in a tightly closed fist. "This is the evidence you need to prove the PsiCorps, including one PsiCop Alfred Bester, was behind the attempt."

"Nuts!" Garibaldi got to his feet, pacing a circle in the back of the room. "I knew that little worm had to be involved."

Sheridan shook his head as he slipped the data crystal into his shirt front pocket. "If he was in my home, if he made it all the way to IA Headquarters without my knowledge… why is my son sleeping down the hall?"

"As I said, this has been a matter of great concern for me. I feared I would return to you with only the crystal and no further information. Then… as I entered the temple, before you arrived… the answer came to me."

"You had a grand revelation, is that it?" Sheridan's patience was at an end and he knew his tone came off harsher than he intended. Mentally he cursed himself as the Ranger averted his eyes.

"Of a sort." Depier lifted his eyes again to meet Sheridan's. "Your child spoke to me. In here." He placed his pointer finger at his temple. He said nothing further; he watched Sheridan's face as his mind processed the information, pulled the pieces together as Depier had.

"Well I'll be damned," Garibaldi breathed.

Sheridan almost laughed at the irony. On Babylon 5, he'd fought against the PsiCorps tooth and nail, making it abundantly clear by the end of his tenure exactly how he felt about them. He didn't trust the Corps, and in general he didn't like telepaths – the tragedy with Byron was a major regret on his part, and he was terrified of what Lyta had become. And now here he was… the father of one. He shook his head. The universe was having a good laugh at his expense on this one.

"There's… one more thing." Depier fidgeted with the underside of the chair he was seated in. "I don't believe his gift is inherited. The images he sent me… well. They imply… something else." He wasn't sure he could explain what he'd seen, and was equally unsure of why the child had revealed himself to a member of the Anla'shok but not to his own parents. "I saw a Vorlon. And you. And you were… you were dead. Younger than you are now, but dead." Depier watched the expressions of shock that creased the features of both human men. "And again, the Vorlon. And it said… the child said, the Vorlon said… _We have always been here_."

* * *

"So what do we do now?"

Bester paced the floor and mulled over his plans. He hated Sheridan. He had for a long time. And while he usually did a very good job of controlling his anger and putting it to work for him, the emotion was so strong right now it was teetering on overwhelming his senses and sending him into a blind rage. "I'm a P-12, for Christ's sake. That child is less than a week old. For him to get in my head like that, to control not only my thoughts but my actions as well… he's like no telepath we've ever seen. As he grows, he'll learn to control his abilities and become stronger than anything we could ever hope to take down. And if he is raised by John Sheridan, that's exactly what we'll have to do eventually." Memories were licking at the corners of Bester's mind – memories just out of reach, in flashes – he was a child, at home with a mother and father. He was taken. He was raised by the Corps. The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father… "Of course… if he's raised by the Corps… we could put that power to work. In the end, he'd be the undoing of all of his father's hard work. There seems a bit of… poetic justice… in that." He smirked now, lifting a clenched fist to his heart. "We'll try again to take him. But this time… I have no intention of giving him back."


	6. The Second Attempt

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

Chapter 6 – The Second Attempt

For the second time in less than a week, the Sheridan family spent the night in the safety of Valen's Temple. Delenn slept – John was reasonably sure her physician had given her a sedative – but John had been restless. He'd pace the floor for five minutes, then go back to the crib and look down at David, to be sure he was still inside. Every time, he was. Sometimes he was awake, and he'd be looking up as if to meet his father's eyes. Most times, he was asleep.

After three hours, the baby began to whimper, and glad for a change to break his routine, John broke his pacing mid-stride and turned on his heel to lift David into his arms.

Now he cradled his son protectively, seated in a chair in the corner of the small room. He didn't speak, just stared into the endless pools of blue that stared back up at him. _You seem to have no fear_, John thought. David rarely cried, and when he did it seemed only because it was an effective means of communicating a need. _Is that because you know everything already?_ He continued to examine the baby's eyes, his face. He picked out recognizable features – Delenn's nose. John's chin. Possibly John's father's ears. And there they were again… those eyes. They pulled him in. They seemed to pull everyone in. They conveyed a wisdom no newborn had any business possessing.

John's eyelids became heavy and he allowed them to drift closed.

_We have always been here._

An image appeared behind his eyes; one he hadn't seen or heard in almost three years. _I must be dreaming_, he thought. And to his dream, he said, "I don't understand."

"You have opened the door. He is the beginning." A voice from the past – long gone, but instantly recognizable.

"Kosh?"

"Protect. Guide. We will be here."

"You did this." He wasn't sure whether or not to be angry.

"Yes. Long ago."

"Why?"

"It… was necessary." The voice faded, and John startled awake. He looked down at his son, who was looking back at him as though he knew exactly what had been going on in his father's mind. John was sure he saw a smile on the child's tiny lips.

In spite of himself, he smiled back.

* * *

Bester didn't make it two steps inside the temple before he felt the cool metal of a PPG being pressed to his head. He stopped and lifted his palms in surrender as a familiar, enraged voice spat in his ear, "You take one more step and I swear I'll blow your brains out."

The telepath laughed to himself and turned toward the voice with a coy smile. "Mr. Garibaldi. So nice to see you again."

"The feeling is _not_ mutual." Garibaldi kept the gun cocked. "And the only reason you're still breathing is that I want to hear straight from the horse's mouth _exactly_ what you think you're doing."

"No, Mr. Garibaldi. The reason I'm still breathing is that you can't do a damn thing about it." The look on Bester's face was smug. Yes, this particular mental block had just been elevated to the top of his list of lifelong accomplishments. "Pull the trigger, if that's what you want. Go ahead."

"_Why?" _

"Why… what?" Bester licked his lips and smirked, turning to look Garibaldi right in the eye. "Why… pull the trigger? Because you hate me and have wanted to kill me for years. Why… can't you? I think we both know the answer to that." He laughed in spite of himself. "But why… am I here? Now that's a very interesting question."

"Why are you so interested in David Sheridan?"

"Because his daddy really teed me off. And because some new evidence suggests he might be better raised in an environment where his... personality… could be put to good use. But let's not kid ourselves, Mr. Garibaldi. We both know I was in the Sheridan home last night and I left empty-handed. So you can assume that I'm… really, really stupid… and have just waltzed in the front door of their stronghold to try it again; _or_… you could give me a little more credit and figure out that since I failed the first time, I might have changed my tactics a bit." The look of complete confusion and anger on Garibaldi's face was priceless. Bester would have given anything for a camera as he dropped the last bombshell. "Did you ever consider, Mr. Garibaldi, that I might just… be…" the sound of Sheridan's voice, followed by several rounds from a PPG, could be heard at the back of the temple. Garibaldi took off like a shot toward the sound and was long gone by the time Bester finished his sentence… "A distraction?" Bester nodded in satisfaction, the smile never leaving his face. "Well done, Al. Well done indeed."


	7. The Pain

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Notes.

Chapter 7 – The Pain

"John? John!"

It was too late. Michael had fallen hook, line and sinker for the decoy in the form of his old nemesis. By the time he reached the Sheridan family's makeshift bunker, the crib was empty and his friend had taken a pretty serious shot to the left shoulder. Delenn, unharmed but near hysterics, was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face.

"They took him. They took him," she sobbed, and Michael put his arms around her in a whole-body embrace, knowing it wasn't nearly enough to squelch the agony she must be feeling. He glanced over her shoulder at Sheridan, whose facial expression was pained – from physical or mental anguish, Michael couldn't be sure, but he suspected it was probably both.

"How many?" Michael asked the room in general.

"Four," John replied from his position on the floor. His right leg was turned under his body, right hand clutching the wound on his shoulder. He tried to get up and his face twisted, this time definitely from physical discomfort. He gave up and sank back to the floor. "The guards outside—"

Michael shook his head. He was still holding Delenn and wasn't sure she could bear a verbal response.

It didn't matter. She'd felt the motion of his body and sobbed wordlessly into his chest.

"They took… the data crystal," Sheridan offered without prompting. "David's gone, and all the evidence with him."

Garibaldi closed his eyes and let himself be pulled tighter by the Minbari woman in his arms. As she tightened the embrace, he felt something cold and wet against his stomach. He presumed it at first to be tears, but that didn't make sense. Gently, he pulled back from her just enough to glance between their bodies.

In the gap between them, he saw only red.

"Oh… God…" He hugged her one last time, then let go, wishing more than anything right now for the link that had kept him in constant contact with anyone he wished to speak to on Babylon 5. Those days were over, and both John and Delenn needed help. He rolled Delenn onto her side, deliberately facing her away from her injured husband, and ran from the room, screaming.

"Help! I need help over here!"

Two Minbari acolytes approached him in startled confusion. They looked at his bloodied shirt front, then at each other, brows furrowed. They began to speak to him in hurried Adronato, guiding him to a bench, pushing him to sit down.

"No, it's not my blood. Look, I'm not hurt. I – aw, screw it." He pushed his way back to his feet and was about to drag one of them down the hall when Depier – thank goodness, Depier, who spoke English – appeared. "You! Get a doctor, and whatever you have on this godforsaken planet that passes for law enforcement." Depier looked startled, and he shared the same confused look that had graced the faces of the two acolytes. _"Now!"_ Depier hurried out of the temple, shooting one last worried look over his shoulder at the bald human, who was behaving very strangely indeed. Garibaldi watched him go and made sure he got out the temple doors before returning to his injured friends.

* * *

"How is she? How is my wife?"

"She pulled out few of her stitches when she tried to intervene in the… the kidnapping." The physician bowed his head, averting his eyes. "We've replaced them, but she will need to remain in bed for a week, at least."

John shot a worried look over the doctor's shoulder at Delenn, who lay again unconscious behind a pane of glass. It gave him a bit of déjà vu to the last time he'd looked at her this way – on Babylon 5, last year, when he'd first learned of the pregnancy that had ultimately brought them here today. He felt he'd come full-circle. But the child who had been borne of that pregnancy was missing, and John felt a giant gaping hole in his heart.

"And your shoulder is –"

"I've had worse." He knew the interruption sounded curt. He didn't care.

"Yes, you have." John was taken aback by the reply, and it shut him up for a moment. He'd used brush-offs like that with Dr. Franklin and just about every military doctor he'd seen over the last 20 years, and it had not only never worked, but also usually earned him a look of disapproval when he insisted he was fine. _Minbari do not lie_, he mused. "The weapon was not fired at close range and seemed deliberately placed to miss all vital organs. My guess is that they wanted you injured enough to be out of the way… but not killed."

"When I find them, they'll wish they'd finished the job," he grunted, reaching for his shirt. He pulled it on roughly, wincing at the pain shooting from his shoulder.

"It will be tender for a few days, but it has cauterized," the doctor said. He had been Delenn's personal physician for years, before and after her metamorphosis. He was the same doctor who had delivered David in what was probably Minbar's first Cesarean Section a week prior.

John buttoned his shirt up to the collar and pushed himself to a standing position with his good arm. "Will you watch over her?" His eyes betrayed any attempt at a brave front.

The doctor nodded solemnly. "With my life, Mr. President."

"Good." He started to head out of the room.

"May I ask… where you are going?"

"First? To get my gun. Then to find Mr. Garibaldi, and finally, to do something you would probably consider incredibly stupid."

John was long gone before the physician spoke to an unconscious Delenn, "Or incredibly human."


	8. The Watcher

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Notes

Chapter 8 – The Watcher

Deep in the belly of Downbelow, Tessa Halloran finally cornered the lurker she'd been chasing. His nervous attitude when she'd started asking questions had given her reason enough to suspect he was up to something; when she'd asked him directly and he'd bolted, her suspicions were pretty well confirmed. Now he was backed against a wall, and she had dealt him a swift blow to the jaw on his one and only attempt to get back up.

"You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me what you know about the kidnapping of David Sheridan."

"Or what?" The lurker challenged. In response, Tessa raised her fist in preparation for another punch. "OK, OK, all right!" The lurker covered his face to protect himself from further pummeling. "I don't want any trouble. I… I left the Corps about a month ago. Ran. Ended up here."

"Rating?" She adjusted stance but remained ready to swing.

"P-11. Special Intelligence Division. I started to hear things I… just couldn't swallow. Bester… he and some others above him… they were planning to hold the Sheridan baby for ransom. The price… would be the installation of members of the Corps in high places within the new Alliance." He shook his head. "I've got a daughter of my own that I never see. Mated with a P-12 three years ago, trying to breed something bigger and better. I couldn't sit by and watch them tear another family apart. So first chance I got, I ran."

"We already knew most of that." Tessa relaxed slightly. "But there has been no ransom demand, and it's been almost twelve hours."

"Must have been a change in plans." As Tessa took an offensive posture once again, the lurker waved his arms in surrender. "Please! I swear to you, that's all I know."

Tessa sighed heavily and dropped to a neutral pose. "Fine. But if I smell anything funny, I'll be back." She turned on her heal and strode out toward the nearest transport tube, knowing the news she carried was the best she could do for now – but wouldn't be enough.

* * *

"I believe him."

Tessa could barely keep her jaw off the floor at her boss's admission. "…Why?" She asked after a lengthy pause.

"I can't explain why. Not right now." He turned away from the Com screen and exhaled slowly before turning to face her again, putting on what he hoped passed for a brave front. "We don't have a lot of time. I don't know very much, but what I do know, what I am absolutely sure of, is that if they get David to Mars, Delenn and I will never see him again."

* * *

"For those just joining us, ISN is continuing our coverage on the kidnapping of David Sheridan, son of Interstellar Alliance President John Sheridan and his wife, Delenn. It's now been fourteen standard hours since the child was reported missing from Valen's Temple in Tuzanor on the Minbari homeworld. ISN reporter Lisa Numante is live in Tuzanor. Lisa?"

"Thank you, Diane. I'm standing outside Interstellar Alliance Headquarters, which houses both the intergalactic government seat and the Sheridan family itself. Two nights ago, an as-yet unidentified suspect broke into the first family's quarters, causing damage to the property and prompting President Sheridan to relocate his family temporarily to a stronghold within Valen's Temple. It proved not to be strong enough, as a second kidnapping attempt last night was successful. Despite ongoing searches and a planetary blockade preventing all ships from leaving Minbar, there are currently no leads on the child's whereabouts _or_ who took him…"

"Off." In the darkness, on a planet 50 light years from Minbar, an aging Republican slouched on his throne. The order had come from somewhere in the shadows behind him.

"I suppose this pleases you, yes?" He asked.

"No." The reply surprised him enough to cause him to turn in his seat and look upon the source of the voice.

"Well then. For once, we have something in common." He was so very tired of the creature's games.

"They will not be able to save him without help."

"Thank you for that… _uplifting_ information. And am I to assume there is something you want me to do about it?"

"Yes…"


	9. The Rangers

Chapter 9 – The Rangers

"All right. You all have your marching orders. White Stars 1 through 40 will dispatch immediately under President Sheridan's command and form a search party to span the distance between Minbar and the nearest solar system entry point to Mars -- just outside Jupiter. The rest of the fleet not actively involved in the planetary blockade will remain inside Minbar's atmosphere with me. David has a homing beacon under his skin – your ships have been configured to lock on to its signal if you come within 50 kilometers. Now…" Garibaldi began to pace before the assembled Anla'shok, which included most everyone who had finished his or her training up to that point. A few were missing, unavoidably detained by deep patrols too far from Minbar to arrive in time, but those assembled would be enough. He thought. He hoped. "The whole galaxy's on alert – ISN dropped the story, but forgot to mention what we know – you're looking for a Black Omega Class ship, possibly a few Black Omega Flyers, and in particular one PsiCop, Alfred Bester." He ceased his pacing and turned sharply to face the group. "David's safety is Priority One," he added in a softer, less authoritative tone. "I want those responsible to pay the price, but above all… your mission is to bring. Him. Home."

The crowd began to break apart, leaving Sheridan and Garibaldi alone. "Michael I… can never repay you for all of this. I just want you to know…"

"I know, John." Garibaldi pursed his lips and looked toward the stars. "Be safe, huh? I don't want to have to come up there to rescue two Sheridans. Keep your head on."

"You too." The president blinked against unshed tears. "And if I don't come back –"

"It's not time for that, John. Not yet. Now go." One last look, and Garibaldi turned to depart before his own emotions got the best of him.

* * *

"What's our ETA?" Bester looked down at the child in his arms, and then at his superior, who was piloting the ship. They had with them a skeleton crew – only those directly involved in the plot and execution of this… rescue, Bester decided… had come along on the mission. But the PsiCop was quickly regretting that decision; it was taking all of their combined concentration to keep the child's telepathy in check. David was staring up at Bester now, eyes wide… God, those eyes. He'd never seen eyes like that.

"We're still five standard hours from the jump gate," came the reply. "A little over seven to home."

Bester shook his head against unbidden mental flashes; memories, signs, images of what would be. "What _are_ you?" he asked David.

"You're slipping, Al," his superior warned through clenched teeth. "Don't let him in."

"They'll come after us, you know," Bester replied. "If I know Sheridan, he's already got the galaxy on alert. President Luchenko and Earthforce personnel will probably be waiting for us when we reach the dome."

"We're not going to the dome. We're making a little pit stop, and when we arrive at Syria Planum, the child will be nowhere to be found. Then as far as we're concerned, we don't know anything about his disappearance. Don't tell me you haven't already figured this out."

He had. Another look at the baby, another flash of images through his mind, and he understood… this child was a danger to the Corps, even now. With age, they wouldn't be able to convert him; he would simply grow stronger and more harmful to their cause. He felt in spite of himself a dull pain of regret for what he knew they had to do and pushed back against it. "If they ever prove we're responsible, it will start a war."

"That war's coming sooner or later, no matter what happens to him. You know it, and I know it. I'll bet even Sheridan knows it. Hell, a war hero like him… maybe he even wants it. If his son is to be the catalyst, so be it. Might as well get it over with."

Al sighed. "Might as well."

* * *

Sheridan sat in the captain's chair of White Star 1, just outside Minbar's orbit. In his hand he held reports from the ships further out in hyperspace. So far, they were striking out, big time.

"Mr. President."

"Hmmm?" He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. Depier, present on his ship as a translator, stood before him.

"White Star 19 reports picking up a ship, unknown configuration, roughly 40 degrees off the Hyperspace Beacon relative to their position. Should they investigate?"

Sheridan considered the option. He couldn't fathom why someone would purposely allow their ship to drift that far from the Beacon, except in hopes of remaining undetected. Most likely it was a long-dead vessel, lost in hyperspace years ago. On the other hand, it seemed just Mr. Bester's style.

"Confirmed. Tell them to proceed with caution and be sure they maintain contact with the Beacon. Get close enough to investigate, see if they can identify the ship, and check back in with me before making contact." Depier nodded and turned away, and Sheridan found himself reflecting that he would give anything to have just had this conversation with Lennier. The young Minbari had been at his side on ships such as these through so many difficult times. Now… well, things were different for all of them now. That path had ended. The journey, when it resumed, gave him Depier… who, if nothing else, had no personal feelings for Delenn beyond respect and admiration. He turned in his chair and watched Depier at the controls, speaking to the crew in hushed Adronato. He understood snippets of it; he'd heard Lennier use some of the same terminology and with time and repetition had been able to piece together their meaning.

"White Star 19 sending in initial reports." Sheridan shook himself from his reverie at Depier's voice. "Signature and configuration… indicate… Sir." Depier licked his lips and looked up. "It's a Drakh vessel."

Cursing under his breath, Sheridan jumped out of his chair. "Open a channel to White Star 19." He waited for confirmation, then spoke into the open air, knowing his message was being received on the other end. "White Star 19, disengage and return to your assigned position. I repeat, return to your original position. Do _not_ engage or make contact with the Drakh ship."

"But Mr. President –"

"I know. But they are _not_ our priority right now. So far they don't know we're here, and I'd like to keep it that way. We've got enough problems without picking a fight."

"Understood, sir. Returning to position."

Sheridan nodded toward the disembodied voice and settled back into his chair. _Two or three years ago, I would've sent them to engage_, he thought. _But that… well, that was before._


	10. The Telepath's Dream

Chapter 10 – The Telepath's Dream

Bester knew the second David Sheridan fell asleep. He had avoided eye contact with the child for two hours, but he knew because he suddenly had easy control over his own thoughts again. The mental images pushing at the corners of his consciousness faded, then disappeared, and when he dared a look down at the baby, his eyes were closed in a peaceful surrender to sleep.

"Well. That's the thing about babies," he mused aloud. The other telepaths on board were showing signs that they recognized the easement as well. Everyone was visibly more relaxed. "They eat, they poop, and they sleep. Even telepathic ones." He stifled his own yawn. "I'll be in the back, catching some Z's."

"You sure you want to turn your back on that kid?" His superior asked.

"You don't have children, do you?" Bester replied. "Oh, they kick, they scream, they fight sleep… but in the end, once they're out, they're out. He let us go. We should take advantage of it while it lasts." He carried the child off the command deck and into darkened sleeping quarters.

There was no crib, no good place to safely put the child, so Bester resigned himself to cradling David in the crook of his arm in bed. He ventured a look down at the angelic face and felt the tiniest pang of guilt. "You understand it's nothing personal," he reasoned. "I don't wish you any harm. You're… one of us. You're _special_. But your father… he just… wouldn't cooperate." He sighed. The child had taken a toll on his mind, and he was exhausted.

_Al._

He looked around. That voice…

_Al, it's me._

"Carolyn?" He shook his head to clear the image, but there she was, plain as day, standing at the foot of the bed. "What are you doing here? You – can't be here."

"You can't do this, Al. Think… think of our child. Think of me. Could you do this… to me? To us?"

"That's different. You're… I _love_ you. John Sheridan is a mundane, and more than that, he's a menace. He's –"

"A father," she interrupted. "Just like you." In her arms, she held a tiny bundle. Their child - his child. "He spared my life when he could have just as easily snuffed it out to hurt you. Faced with the fate of _your_ lover and child… he chose _life_. Don't make this mistake. Don't do it."

He blinked and she was gone as quickly as she had come. He looked down. David Sheridan still slumbered in his arms.

* * *

Garibaldi worked out a crick in his neck as he walked the command deck of White Star 53. He rolled his head around, pushed back, to the side… finally a sickening _pop_ and he felt slightly less tense.

"Anything?" He asked. The Ranger piloting this White Star was human, and he was glad for that. The Minbari were a wonderful people, but how they ever managed to communicate anything to anyone inside their own race, much less _outside_ of it, with 97 different dialects of the same fraggin' language was beyond him.

"Nothing." The ranger sighed. "We've been scanning the ground for four hours, Mr. Garibaldi. The fleet has been everywhere but the polar region. I'm sorry, but I think… he's gone."

* * *

Bester woke as the ship docked inside the orbit of the Vega colony. Instinctively he lifted his arm, only to realize it was weighted down. He looked, and remembered. Those eyes were staring back at him.

The mental flash was more powerful this time, no doubt magnified by the effects of Hyperspace. He could hear the crowd chanting David's name. He could see, in particular, one woman – older, her eyes burdened with unmistakable loss but at the same time beaming in pride. She stood behind her son in reverence. But, Bester noted as the flash ended and he was jolted back to reality, she was… alone.

"Apparently your father is going to get what's coming to him after all," Bester told the child. He walked to the bridge, where the other four telepaths on board had assembled. To the ship's captain he said, "I'll take him down."

"Alone? Al –"

"Sheridan, and all of Babylon 5 that goes with him, have been my special project for years. I want to be sure this is done properly."

There was a long silence, and Bester could tell the other man was trying to get inside his head. He blocked him at every turn. "Fine," the reply came finally. "But I want proof that it's done."

"You'll have it." Bester again fought off attempts to read his thoughts, pausing only a moment before he turned and strode toward the shuttle that would take him and the child to the planet's surface.

* * *

"They know that we are here."

The creature looked at him. It didn't have facial expressions, but if it did, Londo Mollari was sure the look that accompanied its next words would have been one of utmost stupidity. "They know that _I_ am here," it corrected him. "They have no knowledge of you, and they have no interest in engaging us. They are… distracted. Just as well. They could destroy me, but what would there be to gain from that, for either side?"

Londo wished, just for a second, that the White Star that had come so close had engaged the vessel that carried him. Perhaps, in the ensuing firefight, he would have been killed. Perhaps that would have freed him from the creature.

But no. He had made so many errors where this particular family was concerned, and the creature was right. Strange as it seemed, the creature's survival, at this very moment, was the only hope Sheridan had of ever seeing his child again.

"We have reached our destination. Behold."

Londo looked out into the blackness of space. He could see the green of the Vega colony on the planet below them. And just on the other side of the planet, he could see a very large and ominous looking ship. He squinted for a closer look and could make out the PsiCorps insignia on the forward cargo hold.


	11. The Vorlon Catalyst

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

Chapter 11 – The Vorlon Catalyst

John returned to the Minbari medical facility with a sinking feeling in his heart and a look of resignation in his eyes. He looked through the glass – Delenn was awake. She would be expecting good news; at the very least, she would be hoping for it. He had nothing of the sort.

Garibaldi entered through another door while John was still composing his thoughts, trying to decide what to tell his wife.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, John." Michael rarely came to tears, but they threatened now. "But look. They won't – they won't hold him. You said yourself, President Luchenko and the Mars Provisional Government will send in troops to Syria Planum. They'll storm PsiCorps Headquarters. They'll –"

"They'll start a war." The reply was gruff. "I won't have that. Besides… with the evidence gone, they've got no probable cause, just our word. And as good as our word might be, it won't hold up in court." John allowed a single tear to fall as he looked up to meet Michael's eyes. "God, Michael. What am I going to tell her?"

"The truth?" The other man suggested. Together they looked in on Delenn. She was propped up in bed. By all accounts, she appeared to be meditating. "No one has more faith in the universe than Delenn. Hell, she held out hope of your survival when even your own crew thought you were dead at Z'ha'dum. If there is _anything_ left… you'll find it in her."

John nodded. "I need to be alone with her for a moment. Can you, um –"

"I need to call home." Michael put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed ever so slightly. "I'll be in soon, but if you need me sooner, just ask."

"Thank you."

Michael waited just a moment before departing. Alone, John entered Delenn's room.

There was no need for words, in the end. She knew. She always knew. Silent tears spilled over as he lay down on the bed beside her and took her gently into his arms. "Did you find… anything?" she asked, not able to say the word, not able to ask about a body.

"No." He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips… trying to kiss away her tears, to kiss away her pain. "But I'm not giving up. I've got some other ideas. And if I have to go all the way to Mars myself, Delenn, I swear to you. We'll get him back."

"I do not understand," her voice wavered and cracked, "why your people do such things."

He bit back an instinctive reply. It was the first time in a very long time that she had used the term _your people_.

"But I will not allow this to start another war," she went on. "If our son is the price for peace…" Her voice trailed off and she looked away from him. When she spoke again, it was with the quiet determination he'd heard her use so many times over the years – the voice she used when they were against the wall, when it seemed all hope was lost, and yet, she could see reason in insanity. "We all have a destiny when we are born. Yours was to be a nexus in the Shadow War. Mine… was to understand what it is to be human, so that we could unite with the other half of our souls. I don't know if it was destiny or fate that brought the two of us together, John, but I think… when we fell in love, and when we created life, we gave our child a destiny bigger and better than either of us could imagine. The seer said he would walk through darkness but be drawn to the light. Perhaps this was what he meant."

"Maybe." John shifted slightly and held her a bit closer. He let a few moments pass as he absorbed her monologue. Finally he swallowed it as the truth. She was Minbari, after all. She always spoke the truth. And now he would, as well.

"I don't know if they knew this when they came for him, but… Delenn. David… is a telepath." The admission was quiet, subdued. Her face gave the reply that her words could not. "As far as I can figure, when… when Kosh and I… when we were joined… he gave us David. I don't think we could have conceived him otherwise. Dr. Franklin was right, the odds were…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "I… don't really understand it all. But I do know… Kosh felt it was so important that we have a child, _this_ child, that he modified… _something_ in me… to make it possible."

She pulled back from him, eyes glistening and a shocked expression evident in all her other features. "It was Kosh…" Her eyes widened as she spoke, and John watched her face intently. "All along… he… must have known. He told me to enter the chrysalis. He mentored you, taught you how to fight the Shadows. He told you what to do at Z'ha'dum, told you to jump. He must have known… all along, he was driving us to this, for this. And when he died at the hands of the Shadows, he did the only thing he could for us, for the future – he merged with you not so he could cling to life but so that _we_ could _create_ it."

Again, John was silent as he processed all that she had said. As the pieces slowly clicked, he held her face in his hands, and in spite of all the hopelessness that enclosed them, in spite of the bomb that had just been dropped, in spite of the disappearance of their son… he smiled.

She touched his face, fingers brushing his lips with love and reverence. "We have to let him go, if that is what is necessary. As much as it may hurt… where he is now… if he is not to be returned to us, he is destined for another path. Perhaps… one we could not guide him down."

He ran his thumb down the side of her face, wiping away a stray tear. "I love you, Delenn. No matter what. We'll get through this. We'll be OK."

"I know." She pulled him close then, crying against his chest, letting go a little more of the child she was certain she would never see again.


	12. The Rescue

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

Chapter 12 – The Rescue

The shuttle settled gently on the soft ground of the planet that kept the Vega Colony. It was called Giani 7 on star charts, on the border of Centauri space, just close enough to Earth for them to maintain control in any minor border wars with the Republic. As far as the Centauri were concerned, when all was said and done, the Earthers were welcome to it. It was barely inhabitable anyway, only ever fruitful enough to support a small farming community. It would never be anything else.

Two moons were visible in the night sky as Bester stepped out of the craft that had brought him here. He noted as he looked down at the Sheridan child that, miraculously, the baby was awake, and yet Bester had control over his own mind without a fight. _Why?_ He wondered, words unspoken.

There was no telepathic reply, but the child gurgled, and Bester nodded. "Whatever your father may think of me, I am not a monster," he said aloud now. He looked around, walking carefully around tender muddy spots and large vines and trees. Just west of the colony, he found what he was looking for – a clearing where the child would be shaded from view, but his voice, if he chose to speak, would carry to any farmers in the adjacent field.

He laid David down at the base of a particularly large tree and knelt beside him. He reached for the PPG in his holster - the weapon he knew to be fully charged. He held it aloft before pressing the metal alloy against David's forehead. "It's a pity. So much power and potential, wasted. We telepaths… don't do this willingly to our own. But you represent a threat. You understand that, don't you?" The baby whimpered. Al's heart, as if to prove that he had one, sank deeper within his chest. He inched his finger to the trigger. His eyes met David's.

There was a rustling in the bushes behind them, and quicker than he could process the thought of what he was doing, Bester turned away from David and fired. Something fell in the bushes and Bester approached it. A woodland creature lie dead, blood oozing from a single wound. Bester hesitated only a moment before he removed David's clothing and dragged it through the blood. _Proof_, he thought. _Here's your proof._

Al's attention was lifted away from the bloodied garments he now held as a brilliant flash lit up the sky above him.

He shook his head. "Bester to Black Omega One. Do you copy?" He spoke into the link pressed on the back of his unclenched hand, but there was no reply. "Bester to Black Omega One, what is your status?" He tried again. Again, his call was met with silence.

"Did you do that?" He asked David directly now. His mind screamed it; his voice spoke it in a slightly calmer tone.

"No." This reply did not come from the child. It came from somewhere over his own shoulder, in an accent he couldn't quite place. Feeling truly afraid for the first time in a very long time, Bester turned slowly toward the voice. "_I_ did that."

The man before him was unmistakably Centauri, and Bester thought, perhaps, he recognized him… but he couldn't place a name. His garments indicated a position of power. He was flanked by two creatures Bester couldn't identify.

"You have taken something that does not belong to you," the Centauri man said now. "Because of this, two very dear friends now believe they will never see their child again. For this, I should kill you where you stand." Bester was in too much of a state of shock to offer any reply, witty or otherwise. He looked back at David as one of the two creatures stepped forward and picked him up unceremoniously, barely supporting his head. Bester's fatherly instincts begged him to interfere, but before he could move to do so, the Centauri accepted the bundle from the creature and cradled him properly. "However. Were you going to kill him, I suspect you would already have done so. For your one moment of selflessness, I will let you live. You will, however, need to find your own ride home. Your starship has been... _excluded_ as a viable means of transportation." He turned and started to leave, one of the creatures leading the way and the other following behind, when he turned suddenly, holding up a finger in thought. "Oh, and one more thing. With your co-conspirators dead, when you do return home, you will not try something so foolish as this again. From now on, you will leave the Sheridan family alone, yes?"

Bester nodded, but the other man appeared to be waiting for a verbal reply. "Yes," he choked out finally.

"Good. Because if I hear that you have gone and forgotten yourself, next time, I _will kill_ you. Do we have an understanding of each other?"

"Yes." He nodded quickly.

"Now go."

Bester moved to his shuttle as quickly as his legs could carry him, still clutching the bloodied garments of the child.

Londo and the Drakh watched until the shuttle had left orbit before boarding their own transport. "Little one," Londo spoke gently to David. "You are… quite remarkable indeed. I suspect that in the years to come, there will be… _many_ surprises for you. And when I see you again, if I am not… so kind… it is only because I have made poorer choices than your parents. I pray that you, and they, will not hold it against me."

* * *

David had been missing for three days by Minbari time. It was morning, but one wouldn't know it to look in on the Sheridan household. The drapes were drawn as though it was still night. There were no lights, no indication of life having come or gone at all. The broken window had been repaired, but John could hear it shatter again and again every time he looked at it. He heard it now as he sat, alone, on the floor of his son's nursery. His son, whom he'd willingly surrendered to avoid a war that was coming someday anyway, because he knew his people weren't ready for it, and if forced, they would lose. His son whom he would never see again.

"John."

He looked up. Garibaldi stood just inside the room. He could tell even through his blurry eyes that the other man hadn't slept either.

"You should eat something."

Sheridan offered no reply, and his friend watched him, not willing to take the conversation where the heartbroken father was not ready for it to go. He waited, and when Sheridan said nothing, Garibaldi crossed the room and looked out through the repaired window, taking in the crystalline Minbari landscape.

"Delenn will be home tomorrow." Sheridan's resigned tone drew Garibaldi away from the window, and he faced his friend. After a moment's thought, he sat down on the floor beside the other man. "I thought I… should do something with this room. So she… doesn't have to… but I just don't know what to do with it, Michael, I just don't know—"

Garibaldi's arms were around him faster than John could think. It cut off his sentence, and he choked out a single sob. "It's not fair," he said before he could stop himself. "I – Delenn and I have sacrificed… so goddamn much. When we found out we were expecting I thought, maybe, after all we've done, the universe figured we were finally entitled to a little happiness. But we are still, after all this time, just pawns. Pawns of the Vorlons, pawns of the universe… chess pieces, strategically placed to be in the right place at the right time so we can do what's right for the greater good of everyone but us." His tone had become hard and angry, and he squirmed away from his friend's hold and got to his feet. "Why, Michael?" He exclaimed. "I've done everything that's been asked of me since the day I took command on B5, since the day I walked into this game. I've given every inch of myself – I gave my life, for Christ's sake! And now I have to give my son's, too?" He clawed at his scalp. "And Delenn! Delenn… God bless her for it, but Michael, she sees this as continued fulfillment of prophecy, as what is 'meant to be'. And I don't know whether to love or hate her for it. I don't know whether to admire her strength or—or slap some sense into her." The words were out before he could stop them, but there was no conviction behind them. "And—and I was just… just sitting here, trying to figure out what to feel, because… because she might very well be right, but damn it. That doesn't mean we can't still be in pain."

Michael was silent for a long time. He could see Sheridan teetering on the edge of his control. There was a very dark and dangerous look in his eyes, one so unlike Sheridan that it shook Garibaldi to his core. He'd seen that look only once before, when they'd rescued Sheridan from his captivity and torture on Mars two years ago, and he had emptied a PPG into one of the security guards. It was fear, and hatred, and pain, hiding behind a thin shield of complete and utter unemotion. Garibaldi knew what he had in mind probably wouldn't work, but from the look on his friend's face… he had to try.

"You finished?"

"For now."

"Good. Get packed," he said quietly. "You and I are going to Mars."


	13. The Return

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

Chapter 13 – The Return

John proceeded through the rest of the morning on autopilot. He packed a bag before going to Delenn's bedside, and they had a hushed and hurried conversation about the change in plan. She objected; he blocked her reasoning. "One life or a billion," he quoted her. "It would be your cause if you could leave that bed and you know it. Because you can't… let it be mine."

Garibaldi called Lise again – yes, he was coming home; no, he was not yet out of harm's way, and goddammit, didn't she understand why this was so important? "I've never been responsible for anyone but myself. I promised John I would watch over his son, and I swear if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make sure David has a good life."

A few quick phone calls, a few meetings rescheduled, and John was turning out the lights in his office, ready to join Michael in the private White Star he knew to be waiting.

"Mr. President."

He stopped at the door as the face of a staffer whose name he did not remember lit up his office Com screen in the darkness. "I'm in a bit of a hurry," was the gruff reply.

"I'm very sorry, sir. I have Emperor Mollari of the Centauri Republic standing by for you. Says it's urgent – and that it concerns your son."

Sheridan's eyes went wide in the darkness. "Put him through." He walked back into the office as Londo's face, looking more tired and ragged than John had ever seen him, filled the screen. "Londo, this had better be important."

"President Sheridan. I thought you might find it of interest that I have recently acquired something very small… and very _smelly…_ that I believe belongs to you." The aging ruler watched as Sheridan's features took on a shocked expression. "I know that we have had our differences recently, but you must believe that I do not wish you or your family any ill will. And so when I heard the news that your child was missing, I called upon resources that you do not have, hoping they might be of some assistance."

"What resources?" Sheridan was caught somewhere between utter joy and utter bewilderment as he heard the unmistakable gurgle of a human infant somewhere behind Londo.

"That is of no concern to you." Londo turned from the screen, and Sheridan could hear a rustling as Londo reached out for something. When he faced the screen again, he held David, safely, snuggly, in his arms. "I expect I will be given safe passage into Minbari space."

"Yes! Yes, of course. I – um. I don't know what—" He shook his head, scratched at his beard, ran slow hands over his face to cover his emotion. There were no words. "Thank you. Thank you… so much. However you did it, I –"

"For your sake, Sheridan, do not finish that sentence." Londo shifted the child uncomfortably, and John reached out as a reflex, wishing, wanting more than anything to hold his son. "I owed you a favor, once, for your assistance in giving me information about the Vorlon approach to Centauri Prime. In one year's time, I have repaid you twice, by returning first your wife and now your son to you when the universe would have them dead. Suffice it to say that… I will _not_ do it again, and that, perhaps, _you_ are now indebted to _me_."

Sheridan nodded quickly. "Understood. When can we expect you?"

"Less than two standard hours." The screen blinked to black and Sheridan, eyes shining, turned a slow circle in the darkness of his office. He let out a slow breath, one he'd been holding for three days, exhaling until his lungs were empty of air, and then he paused in the stillness, not breathing, not moving, letting the universe and all its emotion run through his body because he wasn't sure in that moment, if he let go, whether he should laugh or cry. He knew only that, for the first time in three days, he could _feel_.

* * *

When all was said and done, Londo was glad to hand over the infant. He had effectively decided, in the short time the child had been in his charge, that it was a very good thing that he had no children. David had not been fond of the creatures, and he suspected that having them around would be very traumatic indeed for any child at any age. They were not pleasant to look upon by any standard. Also, the child had drooled quite extensively on Londo's coat, and now he would have to send it out to be cleaned. He could not imagine what President Sheridan's dry cleaning bill must look like, and he did not wish to think too much about it.

As the Centauri liner that carried him left Minbar's orbit, Londo watched the planet out the window, but he spoke to the creature. "Now," he said quietly, "Now that I have done what you have asked… would you mind _very much_ telling me _why_ we did it?"

The creature did not reply at first. He joined Londo at the window and looked out on the planet below them. "We have our own plans," the creature replied finally. "We were… protecting our investment."


	14. The Beginning

See Part 1 for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

Chapter 14 – The Beginning

"Well! Tessa, thanks for your help. It's good to know you're looking after the old place, even if it turned out you… didn't find anything of consequence in this investigation. I heard about your – err—interrogation of that rogue telepath; remind me to never be on the receiving end of your right hook." Sheridan smiled at the Com screen in his home office.

Tessa nodded at her boss and offered a tiny smile of her own. "I knew when I took this job, I had some big shoes to fill." She made eye contact with Garibaldi, who stood behind Sheridan. "I'm glad everything worked out, with or without my help."

Delenn stepped forward now to stand beside her husband. "For all that you do, you have our thanks. And for your assistance in this crisis, you have my gratitude, as a representative of the Alliance, and as a mother."

"It couldn't have been easy for you," Tessa conceded. "From what I know of you… to stand back and leave David's fate in the hands of others…"

"It wasn't," Delenn agreed. "But. If I could not be where I wished to be, I could not have asked for more capable hands in which to entrust his fate." She looked at her husband and the child in her arms, then at Mr. Garibaldi, before again making eye contact with Tessa. "Part of growing older and wiser is recognizing those times when we must accept our limitations and allow others to help us through. Moreover, we must learn to have faith in the universe that the path we are walking on is the correct path, even if it is difficult. For me, these last several days have been a lesson in both of these things. You have proven yourself a valuable asset to the Alliance and to my family. For this, I am in your debt."

Tessa shook her head. "It comes with the job." There was a commotion behind her, and Tessa turned an ear. "Speaking of which. The job calls." She raised her eyebrows by way of apology for cutting the conversation short, and the screen went blank.

John and Delenn turned away from the screen to face Michael, who was rocking on his heals, hands in his pockets in his familiar Garibaldi stance.

"Mr. Garibaldi." Delenn paused, and a smile lit her face. "Michael," she corrected herself. "Thank you."

Garibaldi smiled back and brought his arms around the Minbari woman in a gentle hug. "Anytime." He pulled back and looked first at Delenn, then at John.

"I have to guess Lise is anxious to have you back so she can rip you a new one," John offered. "You've been here for almost a week. When do you have to leave?"

"First thing in the morning. But tonight… tonight, you two," he indicated Sheridan and Delenn with a wave of his hand, "Are going to get a decent night's sleep, and I am going to spend some time with my godson." He reached out and Delenn surrendered the baby.

"You… sure you'll be OK?" John asked hesitantly.

"Who, me? Come on." Michael looked down at David, who was happily awake and squirming, apparently trying to adjust to the new, larger set of arms that now held him. "There are guards on all entrances and you're right down the hall if I need you. Now go on." He shooed them away. "David and I have some important things do discuss."

John and Delenn exchanged a glance and waited a moment. They were again shooed away, and Sheridan sighed and smiled, putting an arm around his wife and guiding her down the hall toward their bedroom.

Garibaldi watched them go, and when he heard their bedroom door slide closed behind them, he bounced David gently and began to walk around the room. "David Sheridan," he addressed the baby. "You know, you are setting yourself up to be quite a handful." The baby gurgled as if to actively defend himself. "Yes, I know. _I know_. And that is why it's good you'll always have me. See, I was quite a handful myself." He laughed quietly. "My wife would tell you I still am. So." He settled into a chair. "Lights - low," he said softly, before returning to the conversation at hand. "If you ever find that your mother and father are driving you crazy – which I guarantee you they will _both_ do from time to time, trust me -- and they just don't understand, or your mother is lapsing into one too many stories that begins, '_A thousand years ago...,_'you go ahead and you call Uncle Mikey. Yep. You just call me, and I'll be here." He poked David gently in the abdomen and was rewarded with another, happier gurgle. "Now. How about a bedtime story, huh? I've got a million of 'em, and you'll hear 'em all. But let's… start…." Michael leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a long, contented sigh. "It all started seven years ago… seven years. Man, I'm getting old. Anyway, it all started seven years ago, when I got a call from this guy I knew from – well, from a big war, but _that_ is for when you're a _little_ older. And his name… his name was Jeffrey Sinclair. But in this house," he looked around. "In this house, you will come to know him… as Valen."

* * *

Delenn couldn't resist, as John crawled into bed, pressing her ear to the door one more time. She smiled as she could hear Garibaldi's voice droning on in a naturally sedative tone. She couldn't make out all of what he was saying, but words like _Sinclair_ and _Valen _and_ Babylon 5_ were filtering through.

"Delenn," John chastised. "They'll be fine. Come to bed."

"Of course." She crossed the room to join him on the inclined sleeping pallet.

They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness for a long moment before John stated simply, "I love you."

"Mmm." She rolled onto her side then to look at him. She stretched out beside him, one arm tucked under her head as she studied his face in profile. "I love you," she replied.

He rolled to face her in the darkness now, legs bent slightly at the knee. "And how far away were you?"

Delenn laughed quietly. It was a sound John had been missing, and it brought a smile to his own face. "I am right here."

"Yes, your body is here." He reached out to caress her bicep. "But your mind is a million light years away."

She sighed. "I was just thinking… What does the future hold for him, I wonder?"

"Well… I suspect… a lot of love. A lot of doting, a lot of caring… and some discipline. And someday, hopefully, he'll grow into the kind of man who will make good use of the power he's been given. I think that's… that's where we come in. That's why Kosh chose us, above anyone else, to raise this child. He knew we'd do it right."

"I do worry about his safety while he is still so young."

John answered with a shake of his head. "The PsiCorps won't bother us again. Between Londo and his… connections… and the shakedown Earthforce troops gave Bester, I think we can stop worrying about them. And as far as anyone else, well…" He gave her a sympathetic smile. "We knew when I took this position there would be risks involved. We've done what we can, I think; personal guards, increased security here at home…" He sighed. "They're things I never wanted, things I wanted to prove we didn't need. But… things are different now. And the way he's going, in a few years, David will be plenty able to defend himself."

"I suppose." She lowered her eyes, and he moved his hand from her arm to under her chin, forcing her gaze up until it met his own. He kissed her gently, and it brought the smile back to her face.

"This is just the beginning, Delenn," he told her, and she leaned into him to nuzzle against his neck. "And I, for one, for the first time in… awhile… am ready to get some sleep… and see what tomorrow might hold." His arms came around her naturally. "Who knows? Maybe… maybe tomorrow will be a nice, normal, quiet day."

She laughed, and it vibrated against his chest. "And then you would have nothing to do."

"True." He closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. "But I think… I very much think… that would be OK." She shifted against him and her head came to rest on his chest in their customary sleeping position. "I think…" His fingers came up to stroke her hair gently. "That if I have you… and if I have David… that will be enough."

"Goodnight, John."

He didn't respond immediately. He held onto the moment, treasured it as he had learned to, stored it away with all the other memories he was saving up. Her breathing had evened to a deep, slow pace by the time he whispered into the darkness, "Goodnight."

* * *

The End.


End file.
